Hmm.
I dont know exactly what to write. There so many things in my life that I'm not sure about. My abilities to accomplish the dreams I aspire to, the strength I need to keep my on my feet, the courage to tell people I love no, the wisdom to make the choices that will decide my future, and if I am the kind of person that the real me wants to be portrayed as.
Machiavelli once said that "If you want to be a different person on the inside, be that person on the outside. Then it will happen. Since the only thing that matters in this world is the material, the outer you is the real. There is no inner being that is you."
Though he was a materialist, a capitalist to the -nth degree, and an "SOB", many of his teachings speak truth. When I was in Italy, I stood before his grave thinking, "What do I say?" I said, " You were a powerful, hated, and intelligent man. You cared for no one but yourself and told the world what you believed were truths. Though I find many fallacies in what you teach, thank you for your insight. Your teachings might not show a world that I believe in, but it helps to keep things in perspective about what is my world, and what is the real world."
I want so many things out of life, the epitome being love. For those of you who know me, that is no surprise. *smiles* But beyond that... there are other things. I want the inner me to the the outer me. A little different from our Italian philosopher, no? I want everyone to be able to see inside me and understand all of my inner workings, know who I am inside, including the bad, and I want everyone to like, understand, and accept me.
That will never happen. *smiles*
But, dreaming is always nice. So many people I know cling to the deep dark secrets of their pasts or hide behind their own walls. Sometimes I wish their were no walls. Its funny...my dream is to be mask free, yet I have my own.
"I'd like to teach the world to sing, in perfect harmony. I'd like to hold it in my arms, and keep it company."
The one song I remember from my childhood still speaks true today. I'll finish with this.
Life inside a flower's stem
Is meaningless to most
I live within the ever growing
My soul absent from ghosts.
Will I ever reach my bud?
Can I open true?
Petals extend like open hands
I breathe out life to you.
Scoot
Machiavelli once said that "If you want to be a different person on the inside, be that person on the outside. Then it will happen. Since the only thing that matters in this world is the material, the outer you is the real. There is no inner being that is you."
Though he was a materialist, a capitalist to the -nth degree, and an "SOB", many of his teachings speak truth. When I was in Italy, I stood before his grave thinking, "What do I say?" I said, " You were a powerful, hated, and intelligent man. You cared for no one but yourself and told the world what you believed were truths. Though I find many fallacies in what you teach, thank you for your insight. Your teachings might not show a world that I believe in, but it helps to keep things in perspective about what is my world, and what is the real world."
I want so many things out of life, the epitome being love. For those of you who know me, that is no surprise. *smiles* But beyond that... there are other things. I want the inner me to the the outer me. A little different from our Italian philosopher, no? I want everyone to be able to see inside me and understand all of my inner workings, know who I am inside, including the bad, and I want everyone to like, understand, and accept me.
That will never happen. *smiles*
But, dreaming is always nice. So many people I know cling to the deep dark secrets of their pasts or hide behind their own walls. Sometimes I wish their were no walls. Its funny...my dream is to be mask free, yet I have my own.
"I'd like to teach the world to sing, in perfect harmony. I'd like to hold it in my arms, and keep it company."
The one song I remember from my childhood still speaks true today. I'll finish with this.
Life inside a flower's stem
Is meaningless to most
I live within the ever growing
My soul absent from ghosts.
Will I ever reach my bud?
Can I open true?
Petals extend like open hands
I breathe out life to you.
Scoot